


The Three Point Plan

by toesohnoes



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-10
Updated: 2007-12-10
Packaged: 2017-10-30 05:43:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/328366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toesohnoes/pseuds/toesohnoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"His plan is full of the beautiful, intelligent simplicity that Ando likes to pride himself on. It goes something like this..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Three Point Plan

The rain is pouring cold and wet through his shirt when Ando arrives in New York. If he believed in omens then perhaps he would have been significantly more worried about the gloomy weather – however, all he can do is grouch about the cold that hits him like a pinprick with every droplet. Puddles have pooled on the sidewalk that he has to sidestep in an intricate dance to avoid.

_This would be a lot easier if Hiro was here_ , he thinks, but he's been thinking that so often lately that it's a constant undercurrent in his thoughts, a steady throbbing rhythm of wishing and hoping and waiting. Waiting for Hiro has become his entire life; when his friend finally comes back, with a cheerful smile and a thousand tales to tell, Ando is sure that he will be at a loss about what to do from that point on. Sometimes he thinks that waiting for Hiro is a lot simpler than being with him.

He huddles in on himself as a superficial protection from the brutal, cutting rain, before he finally gives in – he shuffles to the edge of the sidewalk and waves a cab down as manically as he can, though he's certain that Hiro would probably profess that getting soaked is all part of the mission.

Hiro isn't here now, however; for the next hour or so, Ando tells himself, _his_ mission is simply to stay warm and dry.

*

His plan is full of the beautiful, intelligent simplicity that Ando likes to pride himself on. It goes something like this:

  * Go to New York (get nice plane if possible)
  

  * Find Hiro (tell him off if possible)
  

  * Bring him home (gag him first if possible)
  



  
He makes it through the first bullet point with ease, though the weather is mildly off-putting – but the hotel room he nests in is suitable if not as extravagant as he'd been hoping for. The bed is comfortable and bouncy when he sits on it to check and there's a bath so large he thinks that it might hold an ocean in its depths. This place will definitely do.

Unfortunately the dilemma of what to do next is not so easily dealt with, as Hiro didn't leave him with any easy way of finding out what happened: instead he dumped him in their office and ran away to save the world by himself. All very brave and noble of course, but it does leave Ando with the problem of what to do after enough time has passed that Hiro's world-saving mission should be over by now.

New York is still fully in tact, however, and Ando takes that as a good sign. If it hasn't exploded, that means that Hiro stopped the bomb – he killed Sylar, just like the comic book said that he would.

So where is he now?

Ando stares up at the white-washed ceiling of his hotel room in silent contemplation, not even knowing where to start looking for help.

*

When looking for a hero – or a Hiro in this case – it makes sense for his first port of call to be house of one of the other heroes they'd met on their pottering little adventure. As he walks up the driveway towards the Petrelli's household, the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and the building seems to radiate with an overwhelming sense of sadness. It's like walking towards a funeral that he isn't prepared for: he should be carrying flowers but his hand is empty.

He curls it into a fist so that he can knock on the door, letting a worried breath of air out of his nose. As he waits, he brushes his hands over his clothing to try and look neat and professional. While Peter had always been reasonably casual, his brother had been a shirt-and-tie kind of man. Ando worries that their mother may answer in a full-length ball gown, just to show him up.

When the door is cautiously cracked open, however, there are no swaths of material or alarming sequins. Instead he is presented with the very epitome of strength and grief. Mrs Petrelli's face is pinched with unshed tears, but she retains the dignity to purse her lips at Ando. "How can I help?" she asks, but she doesn't seem as if she is the type of woman to help anyone at all.

No, she seems more like she might shove him to the ground if he asks the wrong question and stamp on him with her scarily heeled boots. He stares at her from the doorstep, mouth slightly parted, as visions of his possible demise are conjured in uncomfortably graphic images inside his mind: he thinks that he's been spending too much time with Hiro. His imagination never used to be this much of a problem.

"I'm here to look for someone," he says, while hoping that this doesn't turn into a repetition of the time that he 'looked' for Niki. Being a police suspect is not part of his three bullet point plan. "Mr Peter Petrelli. Does he live here?"

The left eye of the ice maiden in front of him twitches and her lips press together so tightly that they go white around the edges. Ando takes a step backwards, afraid that she's about to scream for the police, and longs for Hiro's power so that he could disappear to a safer distance.

No scream comes, however, and the tension passes. "I'm sorry," Mrs Petrelli says. The words are clipped like she wants to cut Ando with them, like she wants to make him bleed for daring to say Peter's name. "He doesn't live here any more – Peter died two weeks ago."

Ando's eyebrows rise because he doesn't think that there is a sufficient response for the punch to the gut that those blunt words deliver: Peter Petrelli, the hero of the comic, is dead?

If Peter's dead – then what happened to Hiro?

The world seems to be getting more real by the second as Mrs Petrelli watches him on the doorstep. His plan has hit a very unexpected dead end, the comic book stripped away until Ando isn't sure if he can breathe properly any more.

"I'm sorry," he says, because he's certain that's what you're supposed to say when somebody has died. You're supposed to say you're sorry and then everyone cries for a while and there's a funeral and then, even though there's a Peter-and-Hiro shaped hole in the world, everyone plasters on a smile and moves on bravely. He's supposed to do that, but he can only stand in horror and wonder what he's going to tell Kaito Nakamura when he goes back to Japan.

"Yes," Mrs Petrelli says, "Thank you." A frosty silence follows and Ando's certain that ought to be his cue to go – but he doesn't know what direction he's supposed to walk in next and his plan seems to have been halted mid-step by this earth-shattering news that still won't fit quite right into his mind.

He's on the doorstep, floundering and drowning under the detached and distant eyes of Mrs Petrelli, when a saviour appears in the form of a second woman standing nervously behind Mrs Petrelli. Her bright blue eyes and pitch-black hair make her seem magical, almost unreal. "Angela?" she says quietly as she moves forward to intervene. "Who's this?"

Ando tries to smile at her but it wavers and faints before it gets going – the woman's smile does the exact same thing, so that they both fail pathetically together. Ando gives up easily, unable to give himself a pep talk to keep going. He isn't sure when simply smiling became such an impossible task, but by now it feels as if he just doesn't have the energy.

Mrs Petrelli scans her eyes over him like a dinosaur considering whether or not to _stomp_. "One of Peter's friends," she answers – and it sounds like an insult. It sounds as if he's a 'friend' instead of a friend.

Which, Ando tells himself, is fair enough. He's not even a 'friend', he's just… someone that was there. Someone that helped to set him on this path towards destruction. He swallows uncomfortably, and wonders if that means he's responsible for what happened.

"I'm Heidi," the woman says, looking past Mrs Petrelli towards him. "I was Peter's sister-in-law. Would you like to come in?"

Ando thinks that that's just about the last thing on Earth that he wants to do right now – what he wants to do, what he really wants, is to have Hiro's power so that he can just start anew and wipe the last few weeks out of existence – and Mrs Petrelli's eye roll and prompt disappearance into the house is hardly encouraging. Heidi watches him with those desperate blue eyes that seem so impossible to say no to. Supernatural, magic eyes. He nods and steps over the threshold before he can think of how to say no.

She leads him inside, past the flowers and cards wishing the family condolences. It's a clean, clinical home – Ando can't imagine that Peter Petrelli would have ever lived in a place like this, but he can see the brother there perfectly. Nathan Petrelli, Hiro's villain, would have fit right in here in this grand yet impersonal living space.

When he enters the living room he's ushered to sit on a creamy white couch, surrounded by soft blue cushions. It's a comfortable and expensive piece of furniture but to Ando it feels cold and covered with needles. He sits on the edge as if he's ready to dart out of the room at any moment.

"How did you know Peter?" Heidi asks – she's being polite, he knows that. She's trying to be polite as it would be horribly rude to send away mourners at a time like this. He wonders how many 'friends' she has had to deal with so far.

Ando isn't mourning the same person as the rest of this household, however. He feels numb and surreal about the news of Peter's death and it leaves him hungry to find out if Hiro had the same fate. He can't believe that that would be possible. Nothing could have been deadly enough to snuff Hiro out. He's like a pop-up toy, too alarmingly bouncy to be kept down for long.

"Through work," he answers. "In a way. It's very complicated. I'm… I didn’t know him very well."

"No," she agrees nostalgically, "I don't suppose any of us did."

He smiles shakily because he feels as if that's what he should do – and he allows her to talk about the Petrelli brothers to him because she seems like she wants to and she's a pretty woman and pretty women should always get what they want. Her shiny, teary eyes make him wish that he had something nice and appropriate to say, or a wonderful anecdote to tell her about the men she's missing; he can't offer memories, but he's a shoulder to cry on so she lets the tears spill. Ando isn't used to watching women cry: he doesn't think it's an experience he enjoys.

"I'm sorry," Heidi whispers when she manages to get control of herself enough to dab at the corner of her eyes to get rid of the tears that run silently. "I'm sorry. It's- It's been a difficult couple of weeks."

"You do not have to apologise," he says hurriedly. "Please, don't feel that you have to. After what's happened, you have every right to be like this." It's difficult to speak a foreign language and be comforting at the same time. Ando doesn’t think he's as successful at it as Hiro would have been – he isn't cuddly or helpful like his friend – but Heidi smiles and cough-laughs in desperation.

"You're right. Of course you're right." She laughs like a rake and brushes her hands over her face. "Of course," she repeats. There's something terrifying about watching a meltdown right in front of his eyes but Ando can't find a way to politely excuse himself. Let her grieve, he decides. It's not as if he has anywhere else he has to go and he doesn't think that she'll have any sympathy from her mother-in-law. Yes, let her grieve.

Unfortunately, letting her grieve means letting himself sit there in an awkward trap, so he clears his throat and pats her shoulder and when she seems collected enough he offers to get her some tea. This, he thinks as he gets lost on the way to the kitchen, was most definitely _not_ featured in the three point plan.

*

It takes him another two days to make a single other baby-step forward: Heidi gives him a name and an address for someone that was apparently in Kirby Plaza the night that whatever happened… happened. "If anyone has answers about your friend," she says with a waver in her voice, "It'll be him."

So Ando goes, because he has no choice and because he has to and because if he stayed near the Petrellis for even another moment he thinks that the grief would have pulled him down like an anchor around his ankle. He needs to keep afloat, can't let himself drown. When Hiro comes back – he's not dead, he can't be dead, he isn't – he's going to expect his best friend to be every bit as optimistic and rash as he is. Ando won't let himself disappoint him.

He's left his cell phone back in the hotel: Kaito keeps phoning him over, and over, and over again, and he really doesn't want to have to answer and try to explain what on earth happened to his son. He can't answer that question and that's what has brought him here.

Mohinder Suresh.

He checks the apartment door in front of him and fights against the impulse to run away from this place as well. Maybe a flight back to Japan is what should come next in his plan. Maybe he isn't cut out to be a hero – or an investigator, or a sidekick, or anything other than a mediocre programmer for Yamagato Industries – so maybe he should just give the hell up now.

He twitches like he's being electrocuted, two sides warring with himself, but his arm is unruly and knocks on the door before he's come to a decision. He really hates that arm. It's something of a traitor. Before he can reprimand it and get the limb under control, the door has been answered and he has to face Doctor Suresh.

… Who is, he must say, somewhat shorter than he'd imagined.

And female.

And a child.

"Mohinder Suresh?" he asks. It's something of a relief when the little girl shakes her head gravely. She calls the name further into the apartment and is, to Ando's relief, considerably more Mohinder Suresh-y. Tall and male and adult and-

Pretty.

Very, very pretty.

Very pretty and very tired by the looks of things, though he still manages to spare a stressed-out smile for the stranger on his doorstep. "Sorry," he says, "I'm Mohinder Suresh. And you are?"

"Um," Ando says, because he's certain he knows the answer to this one but he can't stop himself from staring and wondering why absolutely everyone in New York has to be devastatingly attractive. It makes it rather difficult to keep an absolutely clear mind. "Ando," he remembers eventually. "Ando Masahashi. I'm here to ask you about Kirby Plaza."

The polite smile fades like a snuffed candle. "I've already given my statement to the police," Suresh says.

His hand reaches to close the door and shut him out, so Ando waves his arms in protest. "No, please. I'm not the police. I'm just looking for answers. A friend of mine was there."

This information, this shared secret, gets Mohinder to pause and his brow to crease. He taps the little girl – his daughter? – on the shoulder, which she takes as a hint to retreat into the safety of the drab little apartment. "What do you mean?" Mohinder asks once they're alone.

"I- My friend, Hiro. He went to stop Sylar, but he never came back. It's been weeks."

"Hiro…" Mohinder repeats softly, as if he's talking to himself and triggering traumatic memories. "He had a sword, didn't he?"

Ando nods in a rush, desperate to find out more: desperate to get his hands on any scrap of knowledge that this stranger can offer him. "Yes. Yes, he had Kensei's sword. Is he alright? What happened?"

"I don’t know," Mohinder answers. He seems to be conspiring against the simplicity of Ando's plan as well. "He stabbed Sylar; I know that much. After that…"

"Yes?"

"He disappeared. I didn't see it properly, I-" He breaks off and shakes his head; Ando wonders what else could have been happening at the time to distract someone from a disappearing man, before the memory of what had happened to Peter and Nathan that night roughly reminds him that Hiro is not, actually, the centre of anyone else's universe. There were casualties all over that night.

"But he didn't die?" he checks. "He just disappeared?"

"I can't say for certain," Mohinder says regretfully, but it's enough. Somewhere – some when – out there, Hiro Nakamura is still alive. Ando grins and feels like laughing, like a bubble of tension has finally popped. His relief seems to spread, enough that the man in front of him smiles a little too. "Would you like to come in?" Mohinder asks.

Ando nods: coming in sounds like a _very_ good idea.

*

It only takes three hours, twenty minutes and a cup of tea for the relief to wear off and for Ando to begin to wonder what on earth came next. He can't go back to Japan, can he? He doesn't think that he had the courage to face Kaito. Hiding seems like a much better option.

"You're welcome to stay here for as long as you like," Mohinder promises over his steaming cup.

And so he does.

*

It was only supposed to be one night. Maybe two.

Which turns into a week.

Which turns into two weeks.

Which turns into sleeping on the couch when Officer Parkman is brought back to the apartment as well.

He helps Mohinder bring Molly to school in the mornings and he helps Matt pick her up in the afternoon. Sometimes he tries to help Mohinder cook but generally speaking that tends to end in him 'helping' to set things on fire so they quickly put him on washing up duty instead. It's easier, Ando decides, and quickly adapts to the soapy bubbles that churn around his hands.

"Officer Parkman seems to be doing well," he says to Mohinder one night, as he washes and Mohinder dries.

"Matt," Mohinder corrects softly. "You should call him Matt." It's only when Ando nods that he continues. "But, yes, his recovery seems to be coming along nicely. I'm surprised, to be honest. At first…"

"It didn't look good for him?"

"Not in the first few days, no." Mohinder looks over his shoulder, though Matt isn't even in the apartment and Molly has been asleep for a while now. "The doctors were unsure at first as to whether he'd even survive."

Ando frowns, because he can't imagine Matt _not_ surviving. "What happened?" he asked, even though he knows, even though the memory of the healed cut on his neck lets him know.

"Sylar," Mohinder answers, a growl in his voice. There's history there, too much for Ando to delve into – even though he wants to. He wants to know everything; he wants to unveil any secrets. Instead he looks down to the dishes he's cleaning and falls silent, breathing shallowly with only the sloppy sounds of soap-filled water to keep him company.

*

"This 'Hiro' guy," Matt asks over dinner, waving a slice of pizza like a volatile weapon, "He just disappeared?"

Ando nods and is startled to find that he hasn't thought about Hiro in almost a week: that had to be a record for him. He wonders if he ought to feel guilty, and silently apologises; he's been so busy trying to talk Mohinder out of pursuing an insane scheme with Mr Bennet that the three point plan has been shoved aside – temporarily, he tells himself. Only temporarily.

"Yes," he confirms. "He'll turn up eventually. I'm sure of that."

He can remember waiting in the diner while Hiro ran around rescuing pretty girls; Hiro had come back then, he'll come back now. He's sure of that, he really is – he just doesn't know how long he can wait.

*

Mohinder doesn't listen to them, of course.

He doesn't listen when Matt tells him that Bennet is not to be trusted.

He doesn't listen when Ando urges him not to put himself in danger.

Instead he smiles – and it's a soft smile, a pretty smile, but a dangerous one too – and says that he can handle himself, that they shouldn't worry, that he won't be gone for long.

"You don't need powers to be a hero," he tells Ando, his voice hushed like it's a secret. Ando can only sigh in annoyance, and wish that everyone he cared about would start to understand one vital fact: you don't need to be a hero to be happy.

*

He isn't worried. He isn't worried. He isn't worried.

He's just awake long past midnight, with his gaze constantly flicking to the door as he waits for a tired scientist to spill through it, finally back from his latest trip. He should've been here over an hour ago, Ando thinks as he notes the time once more. Over an hour. Anything could have happened in that time – anything at all.

His hands are nervous and jittery, needing to be occupied. A year ago, this wouldn't have stressed him out. A year ago, he wouldn't have cared and would have been sleeping soundly in his bed. A year ago, he reasons, he wouldn't have felt butterflies every time Mohinder graced him with a smile.

One year filled with powers and missions and serial killers is apparently all that it takes to turn his life and his mind upside down. He brushes a frustrated hand over his face and listens to the continual ticking of the clock on the wall. He isn't worried.

He isn't.

He especially isn't when he hears the sound of Mohinder's key in the lock and the creak of its hinges as it's finally pushed open. Instead of worry it's a frantic rush of relief that takes over him. He's fed up of waiting – he's fed up of being the one that sits at home trying not to imagine what could be happening out there.

"Mohinder!" he says, moving forward as the man closes the door behind him and places his bag on the ground. From the indulgent twinkle in Mohinder's eyes, he can tell that he's being too sweet, too happy, too Hiro – compared to Matt and Mohinder's seriousness, anyone could seem that hyper. "You're back."

"Finally," Mohinder agrees in a relaxed murmur. He rolls his shoulders and moves into the apartment, with his black hair unruly and a clear tiredness taking over his body. "My flight was delayed – I had to spend a few hours in the airport. It could have been worse, I suppose. It could have been longer, in any case."

Ando follows him through to their kitchen and watches as he pours water into their scuffed and battered kettle. He can't tell how, but Mohinder manages to make even those movements look elegant, like a pianist preparing for a masterpiece; he thinks that he could stand back and watch Mohinder skulk around in domesticity all night, but instead he finds himself huffing frustrated air from his nose. "I was worried," he says.

Mohinder looks back to him as the kettle began to steam and bubble behind him. As he brushes past Ando to reach for a cup, he places his hand on Ando's shoulder and gives it a reassuring squeeze. "There's nothing to worry about," he says, though all Ando can think about is that pressure-point of warmth and contact. "I'm fine – and, for now, the Company hasn't even started sniffing around my lectures. You shouldn't start worrying for at least another couple of weeks."

That's a joke, Ando's sure that's a joke and sure he should be laughing but, even as Mohinder pulls away again with his tea cup in hand, he can only curse himself quietly for being such an idiot: the 'waiting for Hiro' part of the revised plan wasn't supposed to involve 'falling for pretty scientists'.

As Mohinder pours his tea and settles down to tell him about his adventures-

As Matt ventures out from Molly's bedroom to welcome Mohinder home-

As Molly wakes up and pokes her head out of her room to smile brightly when she sees that her second hero has returned-

Ando can only groan internally and curse his own clouded judgement. Whatever happened to the beauty of simplicity?

*

He feels like he's going insane with Mohinder back home, always there, always close. Whether it's a family dinner with the four of them crowded around the kitchen table or whether it's clearing up afterwards as Molly does her homework, being around this man is a distraction – a disturbing, unsettling, uncomfortable distraction that Ando desperately wishes that he could get away from.

Sometimes he thinks that he might answer his cell phone the next time Hiro's father tries to get in touch with him. Sometimes he thinks that he might phone Kaito instead- that he'll tell him where he is and tell him that he wants to come back to Japan and tell him that he wants to help him get Hiro back instead of sitting around waiting for him to return.

Those times are so easily stomped on by a few words from Mohinder; a thank you or a smile or his amused half-laugh at the ridiculous things Ando finds himself saying. Around Hiro, Ando used to be the cool one. Now he's trapped in an apartment with real adult, with real heroes, with real grown-ups, and he finds that he still feels like the goofy kid he was in school.

As bad as it is to have Mohinder around him, it's worse still when Mohinder has to leave – another lecture, another ploy to get the Company to take notice of him. Ando wishes for Hiro to appear by his side to give him the strength to carry on like this: Matt needs him there, Molly needs him there, and Mohinder needs to know that he's at home to take care of the rest of their dysfunctional little family. If he left, then Molly would only have Matt to look out for her during the long breaks in which Mohinder can't come home to see them. There are only so many pizza-filled nights that a little girl can take before she goes crazy – Ando's sure that there are scientific tests out there to prove that fact.

"Is it really that important?" he snaps when he sees Mohinder packing again. He hates it; he hates the sight of that bag and he hates Mohinder's work and he hates knowing how stupidly important all of this is to Mohinder. He feels useless again, like he always did with Hiro – left at home while the superheroes go off to play without him. "Molly needs you here."

"Molly has you and Matt," Mohinder argues, despite the stab of guilt and pain that flashes on his face. Ando's glad to see it; at least Mohinder _can_ feel remorse. He'd been beginning to wonder. "And I won't be long, I promise."

"You say that every time."

"And every time I'm right."

Mohinder smiles like he's won the argument, even though Ando feels like picking up whatever hard and throwable items that he can find to chuck at Mohinder's head. Maybe something like that would actually knock some sense into the incredibly dense genius, but he has his doubts about whether even that would work.

"She'll miss you," he says stubbornly instead, crossing his arms over his chest to restrain any throwing activities.

Mohinder zips up his bag and nods. "I'll miss everyone here too," he murmurs. Ando's skin feels prickling and red-hot under the weight of Mohinder's dark-eyed gaze, as if he needs to go and place an icepack at the back of his neck. He'd like to believe that he's coming down with a fever, but Mohinder's playful smile and too kind, too knowing, too attentive glint in Mohinder's eyes tells him it's a lot more fatal than that. Ando doesn't believe that there's a swear word in his knowledge of the English language to truly convey the direness of the situation he's found himself in since Hiro disappeared.

*

Disney movies are very bizarre things.

Ando tilts his head to the side as he watches this one with Molly – he can't remember the title, but it has something to do with princesses and seems to involve a lot of singing to songs that Molly knows all the words to – and attempts to understand the general plot of what is going on before him. Confusing, flashy and brightly-coloured. He'd rather not think of the parallels to his life right now.

"Ando?" Molly asks as she watches. There's a sickly sweet tone to her voice, the tone that tells Ando he ought to run away and hide somewhere because she's been playing him along, buttering him up, in order to ask for whatever it is she was or in order to get answers he shouldn't give her. Molly's a smart child, and there are days when he's uncomfortably certain that she's smarter than the three adults in the apartment put together. "Y'know Mohinder?"

"… Yes?"

"And y'know Matt?"

He nods slowly.

"And y'know you?"

His nod is a little more certain this time.

"Well- the three of you living together…" Molly sighs and flicks at her hair in youthful annoyance. She's silent as the question bubbles around in her mind. Ando wishes that the princess singing on the television would distract her, but he supposes she's a little too old for that now. He's not quite sure; he'd never had to help raise a little girl before. "Why is that?" she asks eventually, bluntly.

Ando shifts and bites his tongue and wants to tell her to go and ask Matt; he's just the guy that sleeps on the sofa and worries too much and is trying to hide from an awkward, tangled mess of emotions that he still isn't too sure how to cope with.

"I don't know," he answers. "I really don't know."

As she sighs in disappointment and sinks against him, he can only wish, desperately and futilely, that he did.

*

Indecision is like a slow-burning punch to the gut, hurting and aching until Ando can't get through a single moment without thinking about the cruel monster that inflicted this upon him. He's starting to understand the lengths that Hiro was willing to go to for Charlie, to get revenge for her death.

All that Ando can do, however, is glower at his tormenter as he reads reports and sips from his cup that sits in front of him. There are a thousand and one little tortures that Mohinder likes to inflict upon him daily; this is one of them, allowing him to watch him do nothing. Ando thinks that it would be easier if Mohinder would catch him watching and react in horror. Instead the only thing that Mohinder will ever offer him is a gentle smile, and that just isn't enough.

He's going to do it, he decides.

It's been almost four months of this – four months of waiting, of watching, of wanting. He doesn't want to become like Heidi; he's kept in touch, vaguely. She's estranged, she's alone, she's heart-broken. He can't be like that.

He won't.

So he'll do it.

He will.

And it'll be great. Happily ever after.

As he watches Mohinder frown at something he's reading, and aggressively circle it in red pen, he wonders if he ought to come up with a plan for this too:  


  

  * Gather courage (a lot if possible)
  

  * Tell Mohinder (bravely if possible)
  

  * Live happily ever after (forever if possible)
  



  
However, considering the limited success of his last three point plan, Ando thinks that he perhaps shouldn't jinx himself in such a way. No, he'll be much better off just winging it this time. Luck will lead the way.

Hopefully.

Maybe.

"Mohinder?" he asks – he squeaks just a little, like a bath toy being trod upon – and when Mohinder looks up at him in interest he has to admit that the butterflies in his stomach feel just a little bit as if they're trying to rip him apart from the inside out. Mohinder's eyebrows rise as he waits for Ando to continue, and he 'hmms?' to prompt him onwards. "Can I- We should talk. I think. I think we should talk."

He nods enthusiastically as Mohinder smiles, that wide-bright-toothy smile that says he's found him amusing for all the wrong reasons; Ando gets that smile a lot and rather wishes that he didn't.

"Go ahead," Mohinder says. He gestures to the empty seats at the kitchen table around him but Ando can't force himself to move forward or even to stop gripping the edge of the kitchen counter that he's leaning against. "Ando?"

He nods to fill the time but quickly starts to feel dizzy; he has to stop and 'uuuuuuh' a lot instead, which sounds and looks even more ridiculous. Maybe he should be following a plan after all. Luck only appears to be leading him to embarrassment.

Luck as a leader, however, is something of a practical joker – there's no other explanation that Ando can detect for the sudden appearance of Matt's smiling face in the apartment. "You'll never guess," he says to Ando as he walks inside the apartment, "Who's turned up looking for you."

But he can, he can, long before he sees the short man excitedly bubbling after Matt into the apartment. He can tell, because luck's a bitch and the timing is wrong and he can't believe that he feels like begging Hiro to just go away for a little while longer, to let him be normal for just a few more weeks.

Yet Hiro's here _now_ and he's bursting with smiles and tales to tell and the excitement radiates from him strongly enough to make Mohinder laugh under his breath as he stands up to look at Ando's friend properly, his attention thoroughly diverted from the man that has been living with him and Matt for the last few months.

Ando smiles – because his Hiro's back and that's what he wants, isn't it? That's what he's been waiting for, right? – and rushes forward to hold his friend tightly, thinking of all of things that they have to do now that his friend has returned from-

From…

From wherever and whenever and however he's been. Hiro's body is warm as he clings back to Ando, laughing, and hugging him is like hugging a constantly wriggling puppy. He can feel Mohinder and Matt looking on like proud and amused parents, can faintly see the outside of Mohinder from the corner of his eye, and decides-

Fine. Fine, this is it. Him and Hiro against the world, him and Hiro with their mission. No romance, no distractions, no crushes, no Mohinders.

If they've got a world to save, if he has to be a hero, then it's time for a third and final three point plan:  


  

  * Leave this apartment (quickly if possible)
  

  * Get over Mohinder (quickly if possible)
  

  * Save the world (quickly if possible)
  



  
Should be easy enough.

Right?


End file.
